100 Orange Juice
by Erman Bullock
Summary: Probably the best glass of orange juice I have ever had


"Hello John…"

A voice that seem to emanate from the kitchen scared me half to death as I was searching for an indie horror film to watch this evening.

"Who's there?"

"Why me of course?"

As I approached the kitchen. I expected to see a naked middle aged man, but much to my surprise it was just an empty kitchen with a glass of orange juice on the counter.

"I know"… "But can you reveal yourself to me". Again, it would have been reassuring to see some hint of a prank, but this…. This was getting to freaky for my…. _tastes_.

"Why John, if I revealed any more of myself to you... it would be more than a little embarrassing. But…I could show you a different side of myself with a little more _punch_, if that suits your _tastes_ more… ;)"

Could it be…?

…the mysterious, less than gentle man…

…was just a glass of orange juice all this time….

"Orange juice, is that you?"

"In the pulp!"

There was much shock to my eyes to see a sentient glass of orange in _my_ kitchen. Was this already a thing, or was this actually humanity's first encounter to something much grander than themselves? The glass of orange must be a gift from god, and I happen to like his _tastes_ ;)

The glass of orange juice was immobile this entire time, but you could tell just by looking at it that it had a little more depth in its character than the grocery stores would want you to believe.

"No way" I gasped.

"Yes way, and you see John…. Since you poured me and forgot about me last week, I have been watching you, I was more than a little disappointed in what I saw…" The orange had the deep and mourning kind of voice that dropping your last beer down the sink would invoke. Such deep emotions, somehow it makes me want to cry…why do I really care that much about what he has to say? It wasn't like this glass of orange means anything to me. Not yet at least...

Then I had a realization.

"Disappointed? Wait did you even see when—"

"Yes John, I have seen everything…and never once did I see any remote part of your life worth living…Like nothing at all. I don't even know why you exist..."

"…that bad?"

"Yes John, it was like watching day-time television-all day every day, and the remote was on the far side of the couch". The Orange seemed to cringe at this relatable meme, but it was hardly visible over its succulent juices and mad flavor. All this time... maybe the television wasn't the type of glass I should have payed attention to...

"Listen John, I want to see you succeed, to live the American dream. I want you to live a life worth living, and the first thing you need to do is stop being so …. so…. you... You know what I mean?

"Listen, I mean, you're just a glass of Orange-" I was interrupted by the handsomer half of the kitchen table.

"…And _Orange_ you glad you met me?" The Orange juice bubbled wildly. "In all seriousness John, you suck, and not in the sucking out juices out of an Orange raw kind of way. But I will make you better. Didn't you always want to duet Dance?"

"You don't mean…" I shudder to think my life has gone this far down the drain, much like this glass of Orange juice will if he means what I think he means...

"That's right John, as much as it embarrassed me to say this …I will be your partner…. In dance!" I was shook, isn't this a little too forward? Drink you once day and Dance with you another?

"The bar on the far side of town has an open stage tonight, why don't we join by the hip and make sweet juice together, John!" The glass of Orange probably doesn't hear what he's dishing out, but its intentions are still _transparent_.

I let out a single tear as I accepted his or her dance proposal—still unclear about gender but I assume its gender… I mean.. _blender fluid_. Anyway, to prepare for the event, I wore a skin tight leotard, while they wore the extremely risky and mildly arousing poke-dotted juice umbrella and an elastic band. Then he had to ask:

"Hey John…." I kind of imagine at this point in time the orange juice was blushing, by inserting my dumb fantasies on inanimate objects-its not hard to do (Even someone like you could if you believe hard enough ;) ). "…How do I look?"

For some reason, I also became engorged with the deep feeling of juice in my being. Not an _orange_ juice, but a pulpy red. Why did I let it have this effect on me? It wasn't like the elastic band left anything to the imagination, but still… I couldn't help but imagine myself tearing it off to look at the intricacies of 100% unadulterated orange juice, and the lucrative shapes that had been in my very own kitchen cabinet for years.

While the glass of orange was just simply going with the _flow_, I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. I couldn't _concentrate_ with all of the precognitions of failure before me-while he certainly could, and in a sense that give me a weak but warm feeling. I walked up to the steps and enters the bar with a glass of orange juice in my hand.

"Hey John?"

"Yeah" I reply timidly.

"Am I half full or half empty?"

"um…half full, I guess?"

"That's the spirit John! Now remember… whatever happens in there, I will always be there for you."

That might have sounded a bit creepy to an idiot, but I am not an idiot, I am a dancer!

After getting a few weird glances, and hours of wait time watching performers pretend to have talent, I decided to not to let the audience wait any more time for something special to happen in their lives. I grabbed my glass of orange, and began… to dance!

I gathered myself and plucked this_ fruit_ of opportunity for all that it has. "I call this the _Puree… _Because it sounds French!"

And with that I twirl and spin like an angel. With the glass of orange juice in my hand, I toss and weave it in movements that are symbolic and deep. I painted a picture of the Holocaust because of course I did. It is a dark and depressing topic, and all interpretive dances have to be just an elaborate way to say I'm angsty.

And as it turns out… a glass of orange was just the thing I needed in my life all along… I needed someone to play the cold jew after all, and it's already in its name (Jew-ice). Not that I want to systematically eliminate all glasses of orange juice in the world, we're not even in that stage of our relationship yet! Not that we should be in a relationship, he's more of a friend, ok? Just a friend. Just a friend...

Near the end of the third act, there was a vast amount of wrongful shouting in the crowd. I would have thought of it as an early Halloween prank for jiggles (the Holocaust was pretty spooky after all), but they were throwing junk away with disappointed looks in their faces as well—and it's way too early for Christmas! How could they? This is like booing the feelings and tragedy of the Holocaust itself, and how could you boo something like that even if the performance is bad? That's a disgusting abuse of power. Where is their sense of empathy, humility, and basic human instincts?!

"You Suck!" Classic.

"Even Stephen Hawking would be better!" Wow… and you would want to see a handicapped corpse enact a play about other people's tragedy and death! You sick frik!

"… Wasn't it just an inside job?!" Just because it was a prank, doesn't mean we can't make good memes of it!

I was forced to stop, feeling destroyed, I looked at my glass of orange juice.

"Hey! You there! Stop this instant!" The glass of orange juice told his stance (well I guess he was anyway), it defending my honor kind of made me feel happy ;).

The audience took in all in for a second of silence, then proceeded to laugh like a bumbling bunch of stupid babies. That's not me commenting based on any bias at the moment, that's just what it sounds like. Trust me.

"Oh look, he's so weak he has to let a glass of orange juice defend him" They laugh harder.

"Just a glass of orange! Look at you! You just poo pooed a performance that I myself thought was fine- as a writer, and the only reason you would ever do that is because of obvious prejudice and personal insecurities. This is America, the land of the free, where you can do anything you want but you choose to spend it alone at a bar? What sad sack of souls you are? At least this pathetic man…" I could imagine that it was looking at me, but I honestly have no idea, it was just a glass of orange after all. "...took all of his courage to get out here and do something with his meaningless life! You laughing at us? I think God's gotta be laughing at you guys a whole lot harder than y'all…"

There was silence. The glass of orange juice was right. They were Americans... but they decided to be lame and savage cavemen. If only they could be the way the rest of the world viewed them... They cried, again, like sissy babies. See, I told you! And you didn't believe me before…

"Hey John"

"What?"

"Let's juice!"

And with that we took our righteous selves out of that stank station. A sudden realization dawned on me. Before we start the many adventures ahead, I forgot to ask one important question:

"Oh yeah…."

"What is it John?"

"I forgot to ask your name"

"Its Theodore Robert Brown II. But for you, you may call me Ted, John… And… you can also have my phone number too ;) ". I had never gotten a glass of orange juice's number before, unless I was worried about my calories…

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**Philosophic Discussion****: (Cause of course I do, what do you think I am? Not Self-Righteous!?)**

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"Hey John, remember that time when you asked me how I felt about humans drinking Orange Juice?" The glass of orange juice looks like a serious beverage.

"Yes, it was a memorable moment and it would have sucked if I didn't get to read that part" I responded because it was true and I am sure you missed out like the loser you are.

"Well John, as I Christian, I believe that God makes us suffer for a reason. If you can't handle the pain, then you deserve it all the more. Go on John, Ask me about _abortions_…"

"Abort—"

"Shut it John, you stupid Pudu! I wish the world was filled with more smart people like me, then people wouldn't ask such trivial questions. Oh course they shouldn't exist, not only because of Christianity, but because they deserve to suffer if they can't handle it. We do guns in American for a reason after all!

"What reason is that?" I ask.

"I don't even need to answer that, use your brain, you Golden snub-nosed monkey! I'm just saying that if the world gets to end tomorrow, I might as well enjoy myself as I sit back and watch with the true believers as everyone else cries in agony like the little sissy babies they are."

"When will the next chapter be?"

"Oh, you know that I also happen to be a writer. And as a writer I know that these thinks take a while. I want you to know that I am a writer."

"No matter what I say the response won't change because this character at this certain point in time is just meant to ask questions as the other main character uses this opportunity to raise its own ego…"

"Oh you stupid Indian giant squirrel! Oh course they will be another chapter. I happen to be a Mary sue and this is text saying how great I am while also inconsequentially revealing the author as a pathetic immature man-child whether this character is a self-insert or not…"

"I mean, this is probably pretty confusing reading two separate paragraphs with no relation to each other with separate meanings…"

"No. no ...no! I never realized humanity was this hopeless… Of course you will see more of me in the next chapter and you will enjoy it ;). All 100% of my Orange Juice goodness! "

"I feel like most fanfiction in general is either a troll or to serve some sort of personal ulterior motive. A universe controlled and created by a 12 year old feeling insecure and loveless in their life is never a good thing… "


End file.
